


Heaven Knows I've Tried

by lco123



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Internalized Homophobia, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:34:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22581841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lco123/pseuds/lco123
Summary: It’s a full year before Alison will go missing. Spencer doesn’t know enough to be afraid.How pre-series Spencer developed some internalized homophobia.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Heaven Knows I've Tried

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't posted anything in ages, but recording my podcast with speakpirate (Everybody A, Everybody Gay--check us out on iTunes or wherever you listen to podcasts!) has made me think a lot about Spencer's relationship with her own queerness. We just covered Single Fright Female, an episode that offers a LOT of food for thought on this matter. I'm not sure if this fic will be a one-shot or the start of something bigger, but I really wanted to challenge myself to just write and post something after tinkering with various things for a long time.
> 
> Also, yes: the title is from Let It Go. What can I say, Elsa is a queer icon.

Spencer is awakened by the sound of a fight. Not yelling, but urgent whispering coming from outside. It’s a hot summer night and her window is open.

It’s a full year before Alison will go missing. Spencer doesn’t know enough to be afraid.

She blinks her eyes a couple of times, trying to shake off the fog of sleep. Her heart is beating fast, she realizes. She might have been having a nightmare.

After a few deep breaths she’s able to register the voices. One is familiar, not just in tone but in pitch; it’s Melissa, and she isn’t happy. Spencer’s been on the receiving end of her displeasure enough times to recognize it. But Spencer can’t place the other voice, and she isn’t close enough to hear the words being exchanged.

Spencer feels compelled to investigate further, less out of a feeling of sisterly duty than her own curiosity. Melissa’s been even colder than usual since she returned home from college for the summer. Spencer knows that she’s hiding something, and she can’t resist prodding a little bit.

She creeps out of bed and crawls over to the window. The conversation sounds like it might be dying down, and she doesn’t want to miss the last of it. She peers outside from her spot on the floor and sees Melissa standing out in the yard, gripping the hand of a pretty blonde girl who Spencer’s never seen before. Spencer strains to hear what they’re saying, catching just a few words.

“You can’t go,” Melissa is pleading. “Not after everything.”

“So you want to take this public, then?” the other girl responds. Spencer blinks again, refocusing her gaze. The girl looks a lot like Alison, she realizes. And she sounds like her too.

“You know we can’t,” Melissa replies, and after that her words get too quiet for Spencer to hear them.

Melissa isn’t angry, Spencer recognizes. She’s desperate. Spencer is still processing that thought when something even more surprising happens: Melissa kisses the girl, and the girl kisses back, hard. It’s like something out a movie, like the rain scene in _The Notebook_ , except gayer.

Spencer presses a hand to her mouth to muffle a gasp. She’s never seen Melissa kiss a girl. She’s not sure if she’s ever seen two girls kiss in real life, period. Definitely not like _that._ She would have remembered.

Spencer doesn’t keep watching to see what happens next. She scrambles back to bed and tries to force herself to fall asleep, but if her heart was pounding hard before, it’s practically beating out of her chest by now.

In the morning, Melissa’s eyes are red and puffy. She doesn’t come downstairs until after their parents have gone to work, then she curls up on the couch and pretends to read a magazine. Spencer can tell when she’s faking: she always flips the pages too aggressively.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asks, bringing Melissa a cup of coffee. She’s been up since six, so wired even before caffeine that she’s already finished her French camp homework.

“I’m fine,” Melissa replies, barely acknowledging Spencer as she takes the coffee.

Spencer bites her lip, dropping down on the couch beside Melissa. “I saw you last night,” she admits. “With that girl.”

Melissa’s eyes flash, and for a brief second Spencer has a spark of hope that maybe they can talk about this, that maybe Melissa can explain and make everything make sense. Not just about last night, and not just about herself, but about other stuff, too. Spencer’s been so confused, but maybe, finally, they have something bonding them other than blood, maybe—

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Melissa snaps.

“It’s _okay_ ,” Spencer pleads, reaching for her hand. Melissa shakes it off. “Or, it could be, I think…”

“Stop it, Spencer. Stop talking. You have no idea what you saw.”

Spencer feels her eyebrows knit together. “Is it about Mom and Dad? I really don’t think they’d care. I mean, Mom organized that fundraiser for the ACLU, and Dad has that gay golfing buddy—”

Melissa’s mirthless laugh is the saddest, scariest sound in the world. It sends a chill straight up Spencer’s spine. “Do you realize how naive you sound right now?” Melissa looks at her for the first time all morning, but her glare is so cold that Spencer has to look away. “No. Of course you don't.”

She sets her mug down with enough force for coffee to slosh over the sides and onto the table, then stands up and starts toward the stairs again.

“Melissa!” Spencer calls after her, but it’s to no avail. Melissa is already gone, the slam of her bedroom door signifying that Spencer should absolutely not try to continue this discussion.

Spencer breathes in slowly, willing the tears away. They’ve had way worse fights than this, real knockdown drag-outs that their parents have had to referee. This wouldn’t even crack the top ten. But something about this particular interaction leaves Spencer completely shaken, like Melissa found a way to press on a bruise that Spencer didn’t even know she’d acquired.

Spencer goes to the kitchen and gets a rag to wipe up Melissa’s coffee. She’s partially responsible for the spill, she reasons.

No matter. In ten seconds the table looks clean again; the mess is all but forgotten.

\--

Spencer and Alison are sitting outside at the Mermaid Café, treating themselves to iced coffees and pastries after having sat through what felt like an extra long church service. Spencer wishes it was the five of them here, but Hanna’s away at fat camp, Aria’s family doesn’t attend church, and Emily went home halfway through the service, claiming she felt sick. She didn’t miss much, in Spencer’s opinion. Nick McCullers’ guest sermon on the importance of upholding Christian family values would have been enough to make anyone’s stomach turn.

So now it’s just Spencer and Ali, munching on pastries and pretending everything is okay between them. In truth, it’s been hard lately. Ali’s been more vicious than usual these days, ever since that disastrous Halloween party. Spencer hasn’t been her easiest self either, she knows. She’s been under a lot of pressure. She thought that taking a few extra pills a day might help her focus better, but so far it’s just made things worse. Not that anyone seems to notice.

And to add to the weirdness, recently Ali’s seemed mildly obsessed with Spencer’s lack of a boyfriend. Which really isn’t anything new; Spencer’s used to Ali’s typically vague commentary on her nonexistent love life. But on this particular day, Alison’s on a mission.

“What about that guy?” she asks, pointing to a boy near the entrance in loose pants practicing his hacky sack.

“ _God_ , no,” Spencer groans, shuddering.

Alison raises an eyebrow. “Okay, how about him?” She nods over to a guy a few tables away from them, who’s sitting alone with a copy of _On the Road._

Spencer shakes her head. “No Jack Kerouac fanboys.”

Ali smirks around her straw. “Our waiter is kind of cute.”

“Great, then you should ask him out,” Spencer quips. Her leg wants to start bouncing so she flexes her fingers slowly as a distraction.

“He’s not my type.” That’s a common refrain from Alison. Spencer’s never quite been able to figure out what her type actually is.

Spencer sighs. “Why are you so obsessed with this, anyway? You know I’m way too busy to date. I mean, being class president alone is a huge responsibility, not to mention all my other extra curriculars.”

Ali’s mouth opens in mock shock. “Oh, are you saying you wish I hadn’t rigged the election for you? Sorry, hon, my bad.”

Spencer flushes. “That’s not what I’m saying. I just—I’m not interested in anybody. Isn’t that okay?”

Alison pushes her croissant out of the way and leans forward on her elbows. “Spence, that docile little kitten routine might work with the other girls, but you and I both know that there’s a wildcat in there who wants out of her cage.” She grabs Spencer’s hand, which has gone from flexing to absently drumming against the table. “Look at you. You’re wound so tight you might just break in half.”

Spencer doesn’t know what to say to that. In this moment a part of her wants to come clean about the pills. It would feel so good to lighten her load. She and Ali could make a plan together. Spencer could finally have some help getting out of this hole she’s dug herself into.

She’s seriously considering it when Alison says, “Maybe that’s more your type.” She’s looking over Spencer’s shoulder, and when Spencer follows her line of sight her mouth instantly fills with bile.

It’s a _girl_. Not just any girl. It’s Paige McCullers. Spencer’s field hockey rival, the only other person on the team as competitive as Spencer. Paige is standing with her dad outside the church, looking every bit as awkward as Spencer feels in this moment.

Spencer whips back around to face Ali, whose face is almost performatively blank. Like this is a test and she doesn’t want to give Spencer the answers.

“Definitely not,” Spencer says with what she prays is the right amount of emphasis.

Alison’s face breaks into a full-on cackle. “ _Obviously_. She might be into it, though.”

“Don’t be gross!” Spencer says around a forced laugh.

“Seriously, you really should put yourself out there, Spence.” Alison doesn’t sound like she’s joking anymore. “You can’t afford to be too choosy.”

Spencer frowns. “What does that mean?”

Alison fixes her with a stern look. “This is a small town. People pay attention, and they talk. About everything. Guys are like insurance. And when your house is on fire, you want to be insured, right?”

Spencer folds her hands back in her lap. There’s no way she’s telling Alison about the pills, or anything else. Not when it could be used against her. Secrets might keep them close, but they’re weapons, too. And Ali knows how to wield them better than anyone.

A few weeks later Spencer meets Ian Thomas. Melissa’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes when she’s with him, though Spencer isn’t about to ask her why.

Ian wastes no time in overtly flirting with Spencer. No guy has ever been into Spencer before, but she tries to lean into his interest, remembering what Alison said.

The first time he kisses her Spencer closes her eyes and kisses back without flinching. Pretends that this is what she wants, pretends that she is normal.


End file.
